


In Which Andromache the Scythian Ruins the Kitchen and Niccolò di Genova has a Good Day Anyway

by HSavinien



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Food, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, M/M, Mild Gore, Pre-Canon, Sex, Walking, no injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28298523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HSavinien/pseuds/HSavinien
Summary: Andy made Nicky's kitchen a disaster. He packs up Joe and they head out for a day without the team.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87
Collections: The Old Guard Gift Exchange 2020





	In Which Andromache the Scythian Ruins the Kitchen and Niccolò di Genova has a Good Day Anyway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gwendolyncooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwendolyncooper/gifts).



> Happy holidays, gwendolyncooper! Hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Warning that the beginning section includes a description of raw meat that may be mildly upsetting/ offputting. (Nicky's certainly upset about it.)

Andy had bought meat. There was a sale at the butcher’s nearest their current quarters and she’d bought large plastic-wrapped packages of ground beef and pork loins and shoved them in the refrigerator last night. 

Nicky opened the refrigerator, idly considering cream scones, and blood dripped out, smearing across the floor where the door had opened. He stared at it. In the vast scheme of their lives, this was nothing, but it was seven in the morning and he had not been mentally prepared for dealing with what was, as he looked inside, eleven pounds of meat in sagging styrofoam sitting in a pool of its mixed blood. The blood dripped from the refrigerator shelf inside, appeared to have trickled into the drawer, and smeared across the inside of the door. La samah allah he feed anyone anything that had come near this mess. Joe might not keep strict halal, but this was… Nicky wondered vaguely if Booker had any incendiaries with him, as that seemed like the best way to cleanse the unsanitary fright that had been made of the kitchen.

The door to the toilet opened.

“Andromache,” he said conversationally. “Why?”

“I’m not ‘boss’ today?” she yawned. “Why what?”

“Why is there raw meat leaking blood all over the refrigerator?”

“Oh, huh, I thought the plastic would have kept it all contained.” She eyed the floor critically. “Isn’t that what plastic is good for?”

“Not that good,” he informed her. “Not this kind.”

“Oh well. I’ll grill it this afternoon.”

He stared at the refrigerator some more and swallowed the sourness trying to rise at the back of his throat. “I see. Joe and I will be leaving. Try not to give anyone who will not survive it food poisoning.”

Andy shrugged. “Haven’t recently.” She pulled him in for a quick hair tousle. “My bad. Don’t worry. The mess will disappear like it never was, Nicky. See you later.”

He nodded and left, trying not to look at the travesty that was Andy, poking meditatively at the pool of blood with a rag. He took a moment to write a note to Booker and tape it to the toilet roll. (Booker could not be trusted to shave daily, but his bowels were reliable). It involved the word ‘bleach’ twice, heavily underlined. Then he went into the bedroom and started packing an overnight bag: two shirts, two pairs of trousers, socks and underclothes, a handgun and ammunition, two knives, toiletries, and their wallets. 

“Yusuf, amore mio, we are leaving,” he called softly, patting Joe’s ankle until he groaned and flailed.

“Niccolò, what-?” Joe asked, looking around blearily. “What’s happening?”

“No attack, no danger,” Nicky reassured him. “Andy has made a carnage of the kitchen and we are leaving so that I do not have to look at it until she’s finished and has cleaned.”

He yawned and scrubbed his hands through his hair, grumbling when one of his rings caught. “Yes, all right. Where are we going?”

“Ehh...” Nicky had not planned that far.

“A hotel?” Joe suggested. “It shouldn’t be hard to find one. I have some cash. We can get breakfast and take a walk and then find a hotel this afternoon.”

“Yes, thank you.”

They dressed, pulled on their coats, and bid the others goodbye. Nicky said his through the kitchen door, but Joe went in to give Andy a squeeze and came out laughing. “Oh, my poor Nicky, what a mess,” he said. “Come along, we’ll leave them to it.”

The safehouse was back off the road and out of town a little ways, but the walk to the cafe was not long. Even so, Joe was making sad eyes at the world by the time they acquired tiny cups of strong coffee and pastry to break their fast. He perked up after he inhaled the first cup and two fig tarts, brushing flecks of puff pastry from his shirt and beard, and leaned back in his chair, hooking his ankle around Nicky’s and settling in to savor the rest of their meal.

Nicky felt better himself, regaining his equilibrium with fig seeds crunching between his back teeth and the warmth of the coffee in his stomach. “I’m sorry it took me so ill, seeing that,” he said quietly. “I have seen worse. I have caused worse.”

Joe nodded.

“It was, I think, that I have not seen so much blood in one of our safe-houses recently. We have not been caught at one since, eum…”

“Paris, ‘61.”

“Yes.” He let his hand fall open on the table, palm up, and Joe’s fingers, warm and familiar and beloved, linked with his. “I have derailed our plans.”

Joe shrugged. “What better way to do it? We are having a nice breakfast, we shall have a pleasant walk, then find a hotel to spend the evening enjoying each other’s company. What a hardship, what a difficult task before us!” He managed to keep a straight face for only a moment, before breaking out in a sunny grin at Nicky. “Alas, that I must eat another lovely fig tart.”

Nicky rolled his eyes. “Alas. Anyway, I am sorry, but I am happy to spend time with you. Did you want to walk somewhere in particular?”

“You choose. It is your duty to make up for getting me out of bed so early,” Joe said contentedly, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief.

“That is just,” Nicky agreed. A curl above Joe's right ear caught the sunlight and his eye. He smiled, just a flicker, but Joe was watching; his face lit and returned the smile, reflecting it back tenfold. So bright, this man. This man above all others.

* * *

The river below the path ran wide and deep and two immortal warriors threw rocks into it to hear the  _ plonk! _ They hadn't been here for years and the course of the water had shifted, erasing an island until only a scraggled tree perched on a sandy rock remained above water. Nicky frowned at it. 

"Wasn't that where Andy lost our dinner to a feral dog?" Joe asked, looking at the same tree quizzically. "We camped on an island around here and it seems like the right distance."

"Yes. And Quỳnh made a pet of it to tease her. She called it Kyon or something like that."

"That's right!" Joe laughed. "It was a good dog. I wish Booker had met it. I wish… He and Quỳnh would be terrors together."

Nicky nodded. "She would bring out the best in him, I think." 

"They would take all your money from you in a week, my love."

Nicky threw his hands up. "Someday! I will find some kind of sweet Andy has never tried and can't identify and I will have my revenge."

"Of course, Nicky," Joe agreed. Nicky scowled at him for only a moment. It was all he could sustain.

"Indeed." 

Joe offered his hand and Nicky claimed it. "If I remember right, and that was the island, then there should be a waterfall ahead."

Nicky nodded. It was why he had picked the path. They had spent an enjoyable evening beside it, even with growling stomachs after Kyon's theft, and forgotten their hunger in each other's arms. Joe liked waterfalls, liked their grandness and the glitter of spray. Nicky enjoyed how noisy and overwhelming they were. That made it easier to quiet his mind somehow, to focus just on the physical.

The waterfall was a rushing, tumbling roar, the churning beat of the water echoing through Nicky’s chest. Joe led them to the edge of the pool below the torrent and plopped down on a rock, leaning back to admire it. Nicky followed suit, leaning on him and enjoying the sun-warmed rock, the muscle and bone of Joe beside him, the misting cool of water on his face. He breathed with the waterfall, finding the rhythm in its crash, until there was only the water, the rock, and Joe.

* * *

They were not youths any longer, nor in the first flush of their love. But oh, sometimes it felt like they were. Nicky hummed, leaning too close, forehead tipping against Joe's shoulder as he unlocked the door to the little room. He crowded Joe in as the door opened, delighted as Joe moved with him, spinning them to press Nicky to the wall and kicking the door shut in one smooth move. 

The wall creaked under Nicky's back as he rolled his hips, rocking against Joe's hot thigh between his legs. He traced one hand down to catch Joe's, the other planted in the middle of his chest. 

"Such a good heart," he murmured. "Yusuf, ma'ashouk. As good as bread. As bright as the sun." 

Joe sighed into his neck. "My love, my life, my moon in the night."

Nicky pressed teeth and tongue to the warm inside of Joe's wrist, nipping at the thin skin until he hissed. Joe's fingernails scratched at his jaw, fingertips warming from the scrape of rough stubble. 

"Bed?" Joe asked breathlessly, tugging him away from the doorway. 

Nicky grumbled, pulling him back until Joe tipped into him, and kissed him. He breathed into the kiss, caught between Joe and the wall, just where he wanted to be right now. He wrapped a hand around the back of Joe's neck, teasing the short soft hair there. Joe laughed into his mouth.

"Not yet," Nicky said belatedly. "I am content here." He arched into the warmth of Joe's body: Joe's hands on his face, stomach and groin rocking against his, knees nestling between his. Joe's breath brushed sweet and hot on his lips and Nicky drank him in. 

"I begin to think that you want something of me," Joe murmured, eyes bright. 

"Everything," Nicky told him and kissed him again. Joe was sweet and sharp-toothed and laughing in delight and Nicky tugged at his shirt until he could slide his hands underneath it to trace the softness of his sides and the scratch of hair leading down from his navel. 

Joe shivered. "Oh, well, we do have all night."

Nicky leaned more of his weight into him and undid the front of Joe's pants. Joe's cock was a hot handful, and as familiar as the grip of Nicky's sword. Joe moaned at his touch.

"Light of my eyes, I can hold the both of us up for only so long," Joe said, voice strained. 

"A little longer, I think." He licked his hand, breathing in the scent of Joe's arousal, and wrapped it, spit-slicked, around him again. Joe's breath choked up and oh, his eyes melting-hot when Nicky met them. He had to look away, heart throbbing, to focus on drawing out Joe's pleasure. Nicky stroked him to the time of Joe's panting breaths. Joe shuddered and fixed his teeth into the collar of Nicky's shirt, his hands grasping at Nicky's hair, his shirt, the wall. When the tremble in Joe's knees threatened to tip them over, Nicky released him. He pushed off the wall, shoving them the three steps to the bed, and tipped them onto it.

"You, fuck, ah, Niccolò, please-" Joe gasped, clutching him.

Nicky kissed him, stroked him until his back arched and he pulled free of Nicky's mouth to cry out raw and wrecked, his mouth bitten red and wet and his cock pulsing hot up Nicky's wrist. 

Nicky stroked Joe's stomach, head resting on his chest and the most vital sound of Joe's heart beating in his ear. Joe settled slowly, his hand landing heavy and uncoordinated on Nicky's to still it and his breath evening out.

"You are a menace, my dearest love," Joe rumbled beneath his ear. 

"Prego." He skimmed his lips over Joe's chest. His stomach fluttered under Nicky's hand. 

"I think I should return the favor." The muscles under Nicky's fingers tensed, then Joe rolled them over and his face eclipsed the world; hair and beard tousled, eyes ardent, mouth a curve of dimpled joy. Half his weight pressed Nicky into the mattress, a solid comfort. Nicky tipped his head up to meet Joe's mouth, but Joe was sliding down, pushing Nicky's clothes out of the way and trailing kisses down every spot that made him moan and squirm. 

His tongue swiped plush and lingering over one specific place below Nicky's ribs and Nicky bucked until Joe anchored him with an arm across his hips. "Where's your patience, Nico?" he said, chuckling, and then Joe's lovely mouth wrapped around his cock.

"Ah- there!" Nicky gasped. He buried a hand in Joe's hair. 

Joe pulled off him and laughed, "You keep your patience in your-"

Nicky groaned and clapped the other hand over Joe's mouth. Joe just sucked two fingers into his mouth and teased them with his tongue until Nicky yanked them free.  _ "Please." _

Joe relented, swallowed him down, and Nicky shouted. Joe's lips, insistent and sweet as summer, pulled him up and tipped him over into breathless oblivion. 

Nicky came back to himself with Joe cuddled around him like a lumpy blanket. Joe had tucked his nose into the curve of Nicky's shoulder, so his hair tickled all along Nicky's cheek. He was humming out of tune. Nicky smiled.

"Not a bad day," Joe murmured.

"A day with you is always a blessing," Nicky agreed. "Even if you make terrible jokes sometimes in the middle of sex."

Joe pressed a kiss to his collarbone. "You would not know me if I stopped."

Nicky chuckled. "Perhaps not. Sleep now?"

"Mmhm."

A good day after all.


End file.
